Hello, Hello
by JohnnnnnyBoyyy
Summary: If someone you loved killed themselves, would you go to Hell & back to save them? TRIGGER! Self harm, eating disorders, teen prostitution, character death, & suicide. All pre-season 3 characters involved at some point. Story starts off in a mental hospital so don't expect instant 'adventure.' Blaine appears in chpt 3!
1. There is a House

**Please don't leave a review saying that this story info is misleading because of the lack of Blaine in the first two chapters. If you're patient, as I hope you are, Blaine will make his debut in chapter 3. Thanks!**

Kurtis Trevor Hummel woke up this morning feeling sick to his stomach. These stomach aches were more frequent lately. He was not entirely certain what sparked these unpleasant feelings in the pit of his tummy, but they usually lasted for a few hours at a time. Today was Tuesday. And that meant that once again he'd be going to the juvenile mental ward at the nearest Lima Ohio hospital to help out. The head nurse, Sue Sylvester, was a stern woman who didn't seem keen on the idea of Kurt helping out, but the doctor (Mr. Schuester) approved him to volunteer. It was a school program through McKinley High that allowed Kurt three hours at the mental ward every Tuesday and Thursday. Something had drawn Kurt to this program, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Stumbling off the school bus that morning (Burt had sold the Navigator for whatever reason), Kurt immediately met up with his best friend Mercedes outside of the school. He smiled rather shyly at her and bid her a good morning. Mercedes often tried to remain chipper in the mornings, but the plain truth was that she just did not enjoy the mornings. Rachel Berry was more of a morning person. But even today, as Kurt and Mercedes approached their usually happy brunette friend she seemed out of place and unhappy. "Is everything ok?" Mercedes asked the young Barbara Streisand wannabe. Rachel simply shrugged and walked down the McKinley halls in silence. Mercedes squeezed her shoulder gently, as if she understood something that Kurt did not. Nonetheless, he continued to his first class of the day without giving Rachel another thought.

Life felt like it wasn't entirely real lately. Kurt felt like he'd just awoken from a deep coma. In fact, every morning felt as if he'd awoken from a long slumber in a distant land. Sometimes he woke up forgetting basic information about himself. He was starting to seriously question his sanity. Brushing off these thoughts, he took his seat at the back of his Spanish class. Miss Holiday was looking lovely today and was livelier than ever. Kurt laughed as she joked with the class, but couldn't keep his mind from wandering towards the juvenile mental ward. He'd only spent one day there so far; last Thursday. And that was spent filling out tedious paperwork and fending off an impending migraine. Still, he rather enjoyed the quiet atmosphere. Until one Brittany Pierce came barreling from her room, a disgusting stuffed bear clutched tightly to her almost flat chest. She was a transient global amnesia patient and Kurt found that he was extremely uncomfortable around her. She seemed familiar in a few ways to Kurt, but he could not decipher what about her was so familiar.

The loud and drawn out snoring of one Noah Puckerman distracted Kurt from his blissful reverie. He angrily balled up a sheet of notebook paper, hurling it at Puck's bulbous head. "Dude! It's just Spanish it's not like we need to know this." Puck said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Hush." Kurt warned him, balling up another piece of paper. Noah grumbled something under his breath but attempted to stay awake for the sake of his head. When Miss Holiday divided them into pairs to work on a Spanish project Kurt eagerly paired with Noah; needing some questions answered.

"Can I ask you something?" he began quietly, chewing tentatively on the end of his bright green eraser. Puck nodded, trying desperately to fight off sleep. "Why did you quit the Glee club?" Kurt asked him, awaiting an answer. There was a long moment of silence. Puck didn't seem to have heard the question. Kurt began to repeat himself but was roughly cut off, "Look, I don't even know why I'm hanging around here anymore." Puck said dismissively. Kurt furrowed his brow deeply. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked. But the warning look in Puck's eyes told him not to say another word. If Puck wanted to leave Glee he obviously had his own reasons. But besides the four other members that remained in Glee with Kurt, he couldn't really remember any other members. It was like he'd fallen asleep long ago and was living a dream. Rubbing his eyes, Kurt silently continued his part of the project while Puck did his half.

The time finally arrived for the anatomy and physiology students to leave for the hospital. Kurt climbed happily into the bus sitting beside a young girl he vaguely remembered from middle school. She seemed angry all the time lately. "It's Santana, right?" Kurt asked her, extending his hand politely. She nodded, taking his hand. "Kurt?" she said in a tone that sounded like a question with a hint of familiarity. He nodded, a ghost of a smile forming on his pouty pink lips. "Where are you volunteering?" he asked her. She replied with, "The mental ward." Kurt frowned, not remembering having seen her last week. "Oh," was all he could think to say. He smoothed his hands through his perfectly sculpted hair and readjusted his old Dalton blazer for about the fifth time that day. Something about the old article of clothing made him feel warm and safe. "You'll like the people there, I think. I've only met one patient but she's nice." he said to the Latina girl sitting next to him. He felt awkward and almost annoyed that she wasn't saying much back to him.

When the bus pulled into the parking lot, Kurt pushed his way to the front. Which wasn't difficult considering how tiny he was. Santana trailed behind him, looking confused and a little scared. "Kurt, do you remember me at all?" she finally spoke as they made their way to the mental ward. Kurt pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side. "I think so, but things have felt a little fuzzy in my brain lately." he admitted, his cheeks beginning to burn a bright pink. "I think I'm just sleep deprived, to be honest. I've had a lot on my mind." Santana nodded, looking a little hurt and almost angry. Kurt shrugged it off and pushed open the lobby doors. Mr. Schuester was on the phone with someone and waved at them as they entered. Ms. Sylvester was sitting behind the front desk, filling out paper of some sort. Kurt said a quiet, but polite hello to her. "You'll be cleaning the bathrooms and Santana you'll be cleaning the rooms." she told them, without looking up from her papers. "Cleaning supplies are, where else, but the supply closet. You need anything else, don't bother to ask. I'll assume you're too stupid to deal with such a menial task and I'll probably laugh at you before sending you home." Ms. Sylvester said. Kurt's face probably read something close to a mix of confusion and disgust. "Bathrooms, right." he said to himself. This wouldn't be too bad...

Brittany met him in the hall. She was twirling her golden hair between her fingers and sucking on a bright red lollipop. Santana seemed to recognize Brittany because she pecked her lightly on the cheek before setting to work on her own assignment. "How do you know Santana?" Kurt whispered harshly to her and he pulled the 409 from the top shelf. Brittany shrugged replying that Santana was and always would be her girlfriend. Kurt furrowed his brow deeply, unsure of whether or not he should believe Brittany or report Santana for inappropriate behavior. Either way he knew he needed to set to work on cleaning. He was almost finished with his second bathroom was a blood curdling scream pierced his ears. Instinctively he covered his ears, scrunching his eyes shut. Loud noises really bothered his ears. Especially screams, whistling noises and howling wind. Mr. Schuester pushed past Kurt, knocking over his carefully measure out bucket of soapy mop water and flinging open the door at the end of the hall. A few nurses followed suit, nurses he did not recognize from his last visit. Kurt felt compelled to approach the room but decided he'd just wait until he'd reached that room to clean the bathroom. Then he'd investigate the horrible noise further.

**Review, please!  
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	2. Built out of Stone

**If you aren't already confused, you definitely will be by the end of this. Like I said before BLAINE will be in Chapter 3! So don't twist your knickers in a bunch and please leave a review (;**

Kurt returned home that night feeling sick to his stomach. The strong smell of disinfectant and blood was still stinging his nostrils. His last two hours at the mental ward were spent scrubbing the bathrooms. Not such a terrible job, except for the dried blood in some of the particularly bold patients rooms. Otherwise he noted that they all kept their living quarters relatively clean, save for the occasional clutter. He was honestly surprised at the lack of care most of the nurses showed. In fact, a few of the nurses did not pay attention to Kurt, Mr. Schuester or the patients at all. They all seemed too interested in their own lives.

Or the door at the end of hall.

Most rooms had little windows looking inside to see the patients. This door had no windows. It was made of the same beautifully polished chestnut wood; although the doors did not seem to match the concrete floors in the hall. Kurt tried to go inside to clean the bathroom but Brittany stopped him. She was shrieking about how he wasn't allowed to go in there. When Kurt asked why she warned him that a maniac lived in there and he was not to go near it.

Kurt sighed heavily and (not wanting to be seen as lazy or forgetful) made his way to the lobby to ask Ms. Sylvester if this was true. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about that, lady. Someone else can clean that room." she had said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Kurt did not see Mr. Schuester again that day so he did not get to properly ask why he was not permitted to enter the room at the end of the hall.

Kurt reflected on all of this as he set to work on trying to sight read the sheet music Ms. Corcoran passed out for Regionals. Or maybe it was Nationals? Kurt couldn't really remember. In fact, Kurt felt like there were a lot of things he couldn't remember. Sometimes he'd walk into Glee practice and wonder why the room felt emptier than usual. He'd wonder if he really knew all these people. Mercedes, Tina, Rachel, Finn… they were all still there. But something felt different. He didn't know who these other people were. Marley, Wade, Jake, Sugar, Joe? Who were all of they? And for some reason they seemed so much younger than he was. Kurt felt a lot older than they were. The new kids also behaved as if they were so much better than Kurt and his friends. They never breathed a word to the older students in the room. Rachel of all people didn't really seem to notice. His friends didn't talk to the new kids either, so Kurt chose to remain silent as well.

Another touchy subject that was weighing on his mind lately was Blaine. After their win at… Nationals? Again, Kurt tried to remember but simply couldn't. Maybe Brittany had given him amnesia. After their win or lose at whatever competition they'd been to last, Blaine stopped speaking to him. He simply threw in the towel on their relationship. Feeling a lump forming in his throat Kurt tried to shut all thoughts of the dreamy teen heartthrob from his mind.

All of these thoughts raced through his head as he flipped on his television. Or at least, tried to flip on his television. When rose from his bed to see why the television was broken he saw that their new kitten Ranger had chewed his way through the chord. Kurt buried his face in his pillows and let out a frustrated scream. He didn't like Ranger. At night the damn thing was impossibly noisy. And he always knocked over Kurt's things. However there was one thing positive to be said about him, and that was he paid more attention to Kurt lately than his own parents did. Even Finn seemed to be avoiding him.

Except for today.

Finn opened the door slowly, observing his step brother for a moment before making his presence in the room known. He coughed slightly and Kurt sat up, tear tracks staining his face. "What?" he sniffled irritably. Finn looked sadly upon his step brother and sat down on the edge of the bed. "This is about Blaine isn't it?" Finn asked him softly. Shocked at Finn's insight Kurt nodded his head slowly. "Look, dude, you have to move on. You have to let him go or he will never be able to let you go." Finn said, again very softly. Kurt's face immediately scrunched into a look of intense confusion. "What?" he blurted out, standing from his bed and beginning to pace. Finn's eyes fell to the floor and his facial expression was almost unreadable. It looked a bit like he'd revealed something he shouldn't have, but Kurt did not press the subject further. "I just want to know why he all of a sudden started ignoring me." Kurt admitted feeling his cheeks go red. He shouldn't have been this upset over a boy he only dated for about 5 months. But it stung worse than Kurt could describe to any of his friends. Finn stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "Mom and Burt are out again tonight." he said before leaving the room quietly. Kurt flopped back down on his bed, smoothing his hands through his hair. He fell quickly into a deep and fitful sleep.

His dreams were more than bizarre. They felt real and they felt awful. He could see Blaine, but not the Blaine he knew and loved. He saw Blaine looking cheap and tawdry on the side of the road. His boots (NOT heels, thank you) laced up and his pants looking tighter than ever. He'd climb into a car that would take him far away and then he'd come back hours later, his hair disheveled. And when the car drove off he'd burst into tears and crawl to sit against the dark walls in the nearby alleyway. Kurt awoke with a jump. He bolted upright, his eyes wide with terror and a silent scream on his lips. His body was coated with sweat and he was positively shaking from head to toe. Suddenly his skin felt clammy and he felt feverish. Prostitute? Was Blaine out on the street _hooking? _And for what reason!? Kurt immediately reached for his phone. He texted Blaine. No reply. He called several times until a sleepy sounding woman answered the phone. "Hi, um is Blaine there?" Kurt asked. The voice did not reply they merely hung up. Furious Kurt dialed again. The woman again answered and this time said into the phone, "I don't know who this is, but it's three in the morning and my husband will call the cops on you." Kurt hung up immediately. Obviously this wasn't Blaine's number anymore.

Kurt scooted to the end of his bed and pulled the laptop out from under his bed. He heard the front door open and in stumbled his drunken father. At the end of the hall was his room, so Kurt got a front row seat to the sight of his parents coming in late from a night of drinking. Kurt winced as Burt toppled over in the foyer. Carol picked him up and drug him into the kitchen. The smell of stale coffee filled his nostrils and suddenly Kurt felt comforted. Coffee always made him think of Blaine.

Flipping open his laptop he typed 'Facebook' into his browser and logged in. His face fell when he realized that Blaine was not online. Not feeling up to searching around Facebook for more evidence of Blaine's whereabouts, he shut the computer and attempted to get more sleep. To no avail.

In bounded Finn once again, looking haggard and sleepy. "Dude I can't sleep." he complained. Kurt pulled back the blanket and let Finn crawl into bed with him. It was not a sexual relationship. Finn couldn't sleep alone and Kurt also found it difficult to find dreamland when the bed was cold and empty. They didn't touch in any way, they just slept. This is how it had been since they'd returned from their last competition. Kurt felt as if that competition was years ago, but he knew for a fact it was merely weeks ago. Kurt fell asleep again, stomach tying itself into knots.

When his eyes did finally open again the sun was shining brightly and his parents had already left for work. Kurt tried to coax Finn out of bed with promises of bacon and eggs for breakfast but Finn refused, saying he wasn't hungry and would rather sleep. Kurt couldn't exactly blame him. Last night was sleepless for most of the Hummel-Hudson family and Kurt would rather have been in bed as well. He sent a fleeting glance to his phone as he left his bedroom, hoping it would illuminate with Blaine's picture and ringtone. No such luck. He padded down the hallway, his stomach still feeling sick and decided he would skip breakfast. Kurt glanced at the calendar they kept on the refrigerator and noticed that Wednesday was already scratched off. "Hey Finn! What day is it?" Kurt asked him from the kitchen. There was a murmur of Thursday from the bedroom and Kurt felt his heartbeat quicken. How could he have forgotten or simply skipped an entire day? Shaking these frightening thoughts aside Kurt made his coffee and began his morning routine; eager to return to the hospital.


	3. Wooden Floors

**Please leave a review? Believe it or not I do read them all individually and take your comments into consideration when I write. Songs are: Hate Sleeping Alone by Drake & Hello, Hello by Paramore**

**And leave it in the reviews, what do YOU think is wrong with Kurt's memory? Also, why won't Blaine talk to him? What do you think?**

Thursday felt like a horrible blur. Kurt saw Santana in the hall early that morning and felt a pang of anger in his gut. How dare she walk around knowing she was taking advantage of poor, sweet Brittany. In his mind he played through several scenarios in which he'd shove her against the lockers and demand the truth from her. But the day dragged on and he had no such opportunity.

In Spanish class Kurt fell asleep. He would later kick himself for doing so, considering how much crap he'd given Puck a few days earlier. But Puck apparently did not care, because he did not retaliate. Although Kurt wished deep down that Puck had sent a ball of paper or a spitball or a rock at his head; just to spare him from the awful nightmares that plagued his sleep deprived mind. He saw Blaine again. Watched the boy he loved sell himself to desperate and horny young men and women. Some of them in their twenties, some of them old and gray, all wanting the same thing from his sweet, Prince Charming. Kurt cried out his mind several times for Blaine to walk away. To not slide into the cars with ease and return an hour later, looking disgusted with himself.

The streets were covered with litter and grime. Everything smelled of damp, musty mold. Kurt had never been to the more rough parts of town. He imagined this was Lima Heights Adjacent or something. But even Santana didn't seem to be as hardened and callous as the people here. A bright blue Camaro pulled up on the side of the street and Kurt felt a lump forming in his throat as he looked on the scene.

"Hey handsome. Can I help you with something?" Blaine said, putting on a "show face" for his newest client. Kurt noted that one of his boots was unlaced and he'd yet to tuck his shirt back into his pants. He supposed after the third customer of the night, Blaine grew weary and his appearance mattered less to him. "Blaine?" an unfamiliar and sinister voice floated out the car window. Kurt could see his boyfriend's face instantly go pale. "Sebastian?" he said, his body stiffening under the piercing gaze of the rival Glee clubber. Kurt did not recognize this boy. He must have been a Warbler that Kurt simply didn't remember from his time spent at Dalton. "In the car, Anderson. Now." the voice said. Blaine almost looked like he might cry right then and there. "It's okay, Blaine. You don't have to go." Kurt said, hoping somehow the dream Blaine would hear him. Something in his heart told him this was more than a dream. Something felt hauntingly real about all of this. Why would Kurt suddenly start dreaming about Blaine hooking? This had to have been a vision of some sort. At least, that's the conclusion Kurt had come to in his mind.

"So, why hooking?" Sebastian asked on the uncomfortable ride to wherever they were going. Blaine sniffled slightly, clearing trying to choke back tears. "Tell me, do you always cry in front of your clients? It's an extreme turn off." Sebastian commented, tossing a package of Kleenex in Blaine's lap. "I'm just embarrassed." Blaine explained. There was a pause while Blaine blew his nose and Sebastian repeated his question once. "I can't seep at night. I sleep all day at school and Dalton pretty much kicked me out the other day. My parents were furious. They kept saying how hard they worked for me to be able to go to such a prestigious school and how I threw it all away." Blaine explained quietly. "I think they were looking for an excuse to kick me out. Because they wanted to be seen as the gay tolerant parents, when really they… aren't. So this was exactly the push they needed." he said, avoiding all eye contact with Sebastian. "Well, you could always stay with me. My parents are out of town for the week and you smell like you haven't bathed in months; no offense." the taller teen said, with a slight jab at Blaine's shoulder. "Thanks." he sighed, a smile forming on his lips.

Kurt felt a lump forming in his throat. So this is what happened. Blaine was too ashamed to come to Kurt for help so he turned a complete stranger! Furious he started to scream obscenities at Sebastian and Blaine, knowing neither of them could hear him. He followed them up the steps and into Sebastian's empty house. Watched as Blaine graciously accepted Sebastian's offer of food and a hot shower; all the while screaming about how betrayed he was. How utterly betrayed he felt by his one true love. Kurt kept willing his mind to awaken. To forget everything he'd just witnessed. It eventually got to a point where things moved in slow motion and Kurt had to remind himself, 'it's not real, it's a dream.' And just when he thought the worst of it was over, that maybe Blaine was at least safe and off the streets… "Take your clothes off." Sebastian said calmly, sitting on edge of the bed Blaine currently occupied. "What?" Blaine said, sitting up. The covers slid off of him, exposing his bare chest. "Why?" he said, a naïve grin on his lips. "You didn't think I'd let you stay here for free, did you?" Sebastian replied, an evil smirk on his smug little face. The color drained from Blaine's face as he realized Sebastian's request was real. He wasn't joking. He wasn't trying to make light of a bad situation. He wanted Blaine. Kurt tried to look away. Tried not to see Blaine being taken advantage of. Tried to block out the moans, grunts, tears, the sobs wracking Blaine's body. "Sing for me." Sebastian requested between thrusts. He leaned down to nip at the ear of the boy beneath him and Blaine let tears slip down his cheeks and hit the pillows beneath him. "I don't care what you sing," Sebastian whispered, sucking on the soft spot behind Blaine's ear. The olive skinned teen sucked in a breath and held it there, bracing himself against the harsh thrusting. Kurt could tell Blaine felt guilty. He could see how awful Blaine felt that his body was responding to Sebastian's touch. After a few moments of silence Sebastian's implored the former Warbler to sing again. Blaine drew in a long, shaky breath and squeaked out the only thing he could think of. Kurt didn't recognize the song.

"_I said I'd rather be with you but you are not around. So I'mma call somebody up and see if they're around. Cuz I hate sleeping alone, I hate sleeping alone. Half the time we don't end up fucking. I don't ask her for nothing. Leave me in the morning, I don't see 'em for months. But I just hate sleeping alone, I hate sleeping alone."_

Kurt snapped out of his dreamlike state, the tune still ringing in his ears. "You didn't wake me." he hissed at Puck. The mohawked teen shrugged, refusing to even look at Kurt. The room felt like it was spinning and Kurt suddenly felt very warm. He felt like he'd just intruded on a private moment between two strangers. Like he'd watched some sick, twisted porno flick. The knots in his stomach returned, at least for the time being. He sat up straight in his chair, trying to calm the tremors working their way through his body. Puck didn't take notice. And if he did see how upset Kurt was, he chose to ignore him. A lot of Kurt's friends ignored him lately. Could it be that they knew about Blaine and lied to him?

At lunch Kurt sat with Rachel. She pushed the food on her plate back and forth distastefully. "Do you feel like we belong here?" Rachel asked randomly. Kurt carefully replaced the cap on his water bottle. "In some ways, no." he said honestly. She hastily shoveled a bite of mashed potato into her mouth and nodded her agreement. "I think about Blaine a lot." Kurt piped up suddenly. He watched Rachel's face carefully, looking for any signs she might have information about him. The topic change distracted her from her woeful, "we don't fit in" attitude. "Sing about it." she insisted. Kurt's face wore a sheepish grin. "Now?" he asked, glancing around the empty cafeteria. Rachel nodded vigorously, a manic grin on her face. "It will help jog your memory too!" she said. Kurt's lips curled into something almost like a sneer. "I don't have memory problems." he insisted, knowing it was a bold faced lie. "C'mon Kurt. Sing your feelings." Rachel encouraged. Kurt took a deep breath and out came the only song he'd been listening to for the past month and a half.

"_Hello, hello, is anyone home? Hello, hello, just pick up the phone _

_I opened up my life to you I've told you everything I knew. _

_You listen so closely to. _

_You listen so close when love was just a way out _

_But you're going deaf now. _

_Yeah you've turned your head around Hello, hello, is anyone home? Hello, hello, just pick up the phone. _

_You'll be sorry to hear, I'm doing fine now. _

_Sorry to hear, you're without me now _

_You blew up the world I built for us. _

_Destroyed our secret universe. _

_Threw out the trust I put in you. _

_Making me feel like I'd been used _

_And now I'm reminded that I was just blinded _

_Hello, hello, is anyone home? Hello, hello, just pick up the phone. _

_You'll be sorry to hear, I'm doing fine now _

_Sorry to hear, you're without me now I'm doing fine, you'll be alright. Maybe you'll think of me tonight. _

_You're doing fine, I'll be alright Just give me time, yeah Hello, hello, is anyone home? Hello, hello, just pick up the phone _

_I don't want to hear you're doing fine. _

_Don't wanna hear I'm without you now I'm without you now."_

Breathing heavier than usual, he took his seat at the lunch table. "That was beautiful," remarked Rachel, wiping a few tears from her eyes. "I don't even know where he is or what he's doing." Kurt said, with a hint of irritation in his voice. Rachel stood, throwing away her half eaten food. "Tell me what's on your mind." she pleaded, pushing her soft brown hair behind her ears. Kurt sighed heavily. The topic of his dreams was more than upsetting. It was embarrassing. What if Rachel thought less of Blaine? Kurt didn't want her to think those things about a boy he so deeply cared for. It wasn't his fault his parents kicked him out! And besides, Blaine was a very plausible prostitute; with his dark curls and come hither lips. And apparently he was a good one, if Kurt's dreams were accurate. Trembling slightly, Kurt revealed his 'Blaine the prostitute' dreams. Rachel listened intently, her face turning an icier white with every detail Kurt unfurled. She stood to leave at the end of tale advising, "I would just forget it," and speeding away.

HA! Kurt thought to himself. Proof! Proof that Blaine really _was _out there hooking. And for whatever reason Kurt's friends wouldn't tell him why. Kurt felt hot tears of frustration burning his tired eyes. How could his best friends do this to him? It was their job to help him and support him! And here they sat, ignoring the fact that his love was out whoring himself around. The idea of Blaine even touching another person made him feel physically sick to his stomach. He made to leave the cafeteria, the bus for the hospital was pulling away soon, but not before emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash can.

Kurt climbed aboard the bus merely ten minutes later, his whole frame shaking like a leaf in the wind. "You okay?" Santana asked him, taking a seat across the aisle. "Yes," he muttered stubbornly. A beat and then, "No!" he exclaimed, moving to sit by the slender Latina girl. "I am absolutely not okay. You explain yourself now!" he demanded. Santana's brow knit themselves together. "I don't-" she began, only to be rudely cut off by the fashion conscious countertenor. "You are sleeping with that mental patient at the hospital. Why?" Kurt said, pursing his lips and putting his best bitch face forward. Santana sighed and stared at the window for a good portion of the ride. Finally, she spoke.

"Brittany was my girlfriend for a long time before her accident." she said. Kurt nodded. Part of him wanted to push her for more information. But he chose to leave her be, lest he upset her further. "We all have our demons to fight, Hummel." she said, patting his hand lightly before departing to bus and making her way towards the hospital. "Wait!" he called out, racing after her. She sped up in an obvious attempt to avoid further conversation. "What makes you think I have demons?" he asked her. Santana shrugged. "I see how puffy your eyes usually are. I see you crying in Glee club sometimes when I walk past on my way to Cheerios practice." Santana explained, her pace unchanging. "And I know something you don't know." she concluded with a slight shrug. Kurt grabbed her wrist, turning her around to face him. "Hands off, lady!" she said forcefully, pushing him away. "Tell me! Tell me what everyone is too afraid to say to my face!" he shouted. Santana turned on her heels and walked away from him, pretending she hadn't even heard the words that came out of his mouth. "Santana! What is your problem?" Kurt demanded, launching a pencil at the back of her head. She stiffened and Kurt braced himself for a blow to the face. She turned around and approached him agonizingly slowly. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled tight she growled, "Look behind the door at the end of the hall, Hummel."

Her words plagued him for weeks. Every time he'd enter the hospital they'd be running into the room for one reason or another and they'd leave with bloody sheets or something sharp that this person managed to smuggle back to their room from the hospital cafeteria. It wasn't until one Thursday on a crisp Autumn afternoon did Kurt get to peek behind the door. He was helping a patient, Sam, with an art project. Sam had multiple personality disorder. Or DID as it was more commonly referred to nowadays. His parents just thought he was really good at impressions, but it turned out to be deeper than that. Today he was not Sam. He was Eddy, an impossible jerk who looked at life as though it was an action film. "Listen up Hummel! This is a matter of life and death! One of them is the color of death, the other is the color of life. Choose carefully which marker you will use!" Eddy said, taking it upon himself to uncap all of the markers and arrange them to look like a tangle of wires. "I dunno, I choose blue?" Kurt said, picking up the deep sea colored marker. "EXCELLENT CHOICE!" Eddy boomed, jumping from his seat and punching the air. "Now, you've identified the right marker. It's time to go help the damsel in distress." Eddy insisted. Kurt rolled his eyes. "First of all, I'm not sure how those two actions correlate. And secondly, we don't have a damsel in distress. Unless you count Quinn, but she's sleeping in her room. As always." he said. "Not that fair maiden! The one at the end of the hall!" Eddy said, pointing his finger dramatically towards the lobby. Kurt knew which hall he meant and sighed heavily. "No, no, no. Mr. Schuester said we are _not _allowed to be in there." Kurt said. Eddy scoffed. "Are you questioning my judgment? I am Eddy! Expert in all things… danger." he whispered the last word for what Kurt surmised was supposed to be dramatic effect. Still, Kurt was very curious about the room.

Standing up he motioned for Eddy to follow him but to keep quiet. "Hell yes!" Eddy exclaimed, punching the air again. When they rounded the corner to the end of the hall, Kurt felt a shock wave hit his body as he realized that the door was ajar. There were no nurses around. No one to stop him. It was at this unfortunate moment in time that Eddy decided to give full control back to Sam. When it dawned on the young blonde what was going on he made to lunge towards Kurt and pull him away from the corridor. But Kurt was much faster. He dodged Sam almost effortlessly and flew down the hall towards the mysterious door. "Mr. Schuester! Help!" he could hear Sam screaming at the top of his lungs. But Kurt didn't care. His heart was pounding in his chest. The air pumped into his lungs faster than ever and made his chest sting uncomfortably. He wrenched open the door, a gleeful smile of triumph on his lips. But what he saw he was in no way prepared for.

Blaine.

On the floor, running a knife over his smooth and once perfect skin. He sat there watching in fascination as the blood ran crimson down his arms. Kurt screamed, covering his mouth with his hands. Blaine didn't take notice. He continued doing what he was doing. Mutilating his perfect body. Heavy tears fell from his eyes as he charged forward grabbing onto Blaine's shoulders and attempting to pull the knife away from him. A gut wrenching scream escaped from Blaine's lips. He started to shake furiously, dropping the sharp utensil and covering his ears. "Shh, baby I'm here. Please stop." Kurt pleaded, fighting to be heard over Blaine's earth shattering shrieks. The nurses were there faster than ever and bandaging Blaine's arms while he continued to scream. "Baby, please let them help you." Kurt soothed. This only made it worse. "Get out! Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out!" Blaine shrieked over and over, sobbing uncontrollably. Kurt released his boyfriend taking a few horrified steps towards the door. "Blaine, I-" he began, but stopped himself. Unable to formulate any thought in his head. The nurses drugged him, bandaged him, and put him to sleep in his bed. Kurt stood in the doorway and watched the scene unfold before his eyes. A gentle squeeze from Sam indicated that he was not alone.

"Kurt, I think it's time you go now." Mr. Schuester said, appearing in the doorway all of a sudden. Kurt nodded, his throat felt tight and he knew he'd be getting little to no sleep that night. He had so much he had to ask, but he knew in his heart he needed a few days to carefully consider what questions he would ask during his next visit to the mental ward. Santana was waiting in the lobby. She extended her hand and Kurt eagerly took it. It was a symbol to him. A symbol of their budding friendship. "I'm sorry you and Brittany had to go through this." Kurt whispered on their walk back to the bus. Santana remained quiet a few minutes before saying,

"Trust me, honey. Yours is worse."

* * *

**Don't forget to leave in the reviews what YOU think is wrong with Kurt's memory? Also, tell me why you think Blaine won't speak to him? 3  
**


	4. Walls & Window Sills

**I'm continuing to write this story for me, although truthfully it seems I'm the only one interested. I'd love some feedback you guys, for real. Comments, thoughts, criticisms all in the form of reviews are awesome! There was a reason I left this site and it was due to waning inspiration. Truthfully the lack of interest from the rest of the community is both depressing and uninspiring. So criticism is welcome! :)**

Whiskey. The strong smell of alcohol filled Kurt's nostrils the second he descended the stairs to Rachel's basement. This wasn't a dream. It was a memory. A daydream. Blaine slurring his words, stumbling, laughing, falling too far for Kurt to catch him. But he was always there to pick him back up. Kurt remembered all too well the playful touches, the flirting. It was a time before he and Blaine became something serious. "Kurt, you're wonderful." Blaine had whispered to him right before their game of spin the bottle. Kurt couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. "Who wants to play 'Spin the Bottle!'" a horribly inebriated Rachel Berry yelled into her microphone. There were cheers and jeers from his classmates. The music was pumping too loud and beginning to hurt Kurt's ears. "Kurt?" Blaine asked, looking to him to see whether or not the older countertenor wanted to participate.

"Kurt!"

Soon, though, the sound of Finn's voice broke Kurt's little daydream. "You can't drown your guilt in French's onions." Finn said, snatching the bag from his much shorter step brother's grease covered hands. It was Friday today. Kurt had chosen not to go to school in favor of lounging about the house in his pajamas and stuffing his face with random junk food. Finn opted to stay home with him, insisting they do the whole 'bonding brother' thing. Kurt glared hatefully at the taller teen and hastily wiped his hands on his sweatpants. Finn cringed slightly; never having seen Kurt do something so… typical of a teenage boy. "Besides, they aren't potato chips. My mom uses them for cooking." Finn said, placing the Family Sized bag back in the cabinet where it belonged.

Kurt stretched and stood from the barstool in the kitchen he was occupying. He opened the fridge, hoping there was a beer left. Burt would never miss it. These days he was too busy in Washington to keep tabs on the number of beers in his refrigerator. He grinned devilishly when he found one shoved into the back right corner as if someone was saving it for later. Finn was too quick. He snatched the can right out of Kurt's hand saying, "No alcohol. You'll make it worse."

As it happened, Finn had been playing babysitter all day. Making sure Kurt ate something other than junk; keeping him out of the beer; and occasionally waking him from the unusually long naps he'd been taking. It was beginning to get on Kurt's nerves. It also happened that when Kurt came home the previous night, furious that Finn had supposedly kept such a horrible secret from him, Finn had absolutely no idea what Kurt had been talking about. Well, okay, that was a huge lie. Finn knew about Blaine. But he sure as hell pretended he didn't know what was going on. That was the real reason Kurt was letting Finn baby him instead of being angry with him. And Finn liked it better that way.

"Look, Kurt," Finn began, taking a measured breath. "I know you feel like you're responsible some how for Blaine, but he didn't even tell you what was going on. And you tried to get in touch with him on several occasions. Dude just totally shut you out. Maybe you should do the same." Finn suggested, pulling out a bag of Doritos from the bottom cabinet under the sink. Kurt sighed heavily. He'd decided not to say anything about the subject, for now. "Movie?" Finn suggested, crunching on a chip. Hesitantly, Kurt nodded, following Finn to the former football players bedroom. They watched Alice in Wonderland in silence. Finn knew it was one of Kurt's childhood favorites. The rather uncomfortable silence continued until Kurt's phone illuminated with a text message from a rather peculiar person.

David Karofsky.

_Hey, would you mind if we meet at Breadstix and talk? _

_It will only take a few minutes of your time (:_

Kurt stared incredulously at the brightly lit screen. He chose to reply with a simple 'why?'and continued watching the movie without a sound. The response was somewhat surprising, and completely unexpected.

_I have to tell you something your friends won't. _

_I'll buy you dinner and you can bring Finn if it makes you feel more comfortable._

Kurt clicked his iPhone off and sat up from his resting position on Finn's bed. Finn, who was sitting on the floor leaning against his desk chair stood up. "Whoa dude, what's up? We're not done and this is the best part." Finn insisted, his eyes almost pleading. Kurt pulled on his shirt uncomfortably. "I'm just gonna go change. I smell like onions." Kurt remarked, his button nose wrinkling in certain disgust. Finn nodded in understanding and paused the movie. "I'll wait dude, no big deal. I have to call Rachel anyways." Kurt nodded shortly and left the room. He slipped into his own room quietly and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans. He didn't even bother changing his shirt. It was uncharacteristic of him but lately he didn't even feel like himself. When he was satisfied with his hair he tip toed into the hall, sneaking past Finn's room and down the stairs. He hoped Finn wouldn't catch him slipping out the front door. And he hoped even more than Carol wouldn't return from work at that very moment in time.

Fortunately neither of those two things happened and Kurt was able to speed down to Breadstix in Finn's old car , his stereo blasting 'It's Not Unusual' by Tom Jones. It made him think of Blaine… Kurt pushed open the thick glass door and instantly recognized Dave sitting in a booth by himself. Offering a cheesy grin and a friendly wave, David motioned for the trembling young singer to come sit. Kurt felt a lump forming in his throat and he suddenly felt clammy and cold. For some reason, things felt off. This didn't feel right. It felt like a date.

"This isn't a date." David said immediately, sipping his soda. Kurt let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Sorry, I mean. Not that a date wouldn't be lovely I just-" Kurt flushed deeply when David cut him off, "No actually, a date would not be lovely." he said, an air of light heartedness in the air. Kurt opened his mouth and promptly shut it, his teeth grazing one another uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if he should be further relieved or a bit offended by that comment. But he dropped the subject completely, eager to hear what David had to say.

"I asked you to come tonight because I don't think it's fair that your friends are holding out on you." Dave said quietly. His tone became immediately somber and his face took on a look of complete and utter seriousness. Kurt felt his stomach drop. Even David seemed to know about Blaine. It was totally embarrassing. "Go on." Kurt said, dreading the next words out of his former bully's mouth. "Kurt, I know that you're having problems with your memory. And I know that this really bothers you. I also know that your friends also have memory problems they're struggling with." David explained, his face serious but suddenly sympathetic. Kurt sucked in his cheeks slightly, tasting stale pepsi in his mouth from his afternoon of sucking down as much junk food as possible. He felt the sudden urge to brush his teeth, but resisted and re-directed his attention to Karofsky.

"They are just trying to protect you, Kurt. But I think some of them are starting to get a little frustrated. And some of them left." Kurt furrowed his brow at this. Some of them left? "What?" Kurt interjected, genuinely confused by this comment. "Mike and Artie." David supplied. Kurt was still stumped. "Where did they go?" Kurt asked, leaning on his palms against the table. Dave shook his head and continued talking as if Kurt hadn't even asked his question. "Look, something happened at your Nationals. You need to figure it out like your friends have. And I can tell you that visiting Blaine might help." Dave said, standing to leave. "Wait what?!" Kurt demanded. "If my friends know why cant they just tell me!? How did they figure it out!" Kurt called after Dave, who was sauntering his way to the front of the restaurant. "You promised me dinner!" Kurt tried weakly.

It didn't work.

Angry and alone, Kurt stormed from the restaurant and hopped into Finn's car. He sat there for a while, watching the sunset in the distance. He hadn't received any phone calls from Finn or text messages. Clearly his absence went unnoticed. Not a surprise. Rachel was probably still flapping her gums about music and her Broadway career. Finally he stuck the keys in the ignition and the car roared to life. His body went into autopilot and he drove. He drove a few miles, the radio keeping him company in the cramped car. His eyes shone with unshed tears, though he couldn't entirely explain the reasoning. After what seemed like an hour he arrived at his destination.

And there it stood in the waning daylight, the lights on the inside shining dimly like florescent ghosts watching out over the grounds. Kurt stared up at the hospital, a sickly shiver coursing through his veins and he looked upon the haunting building. People were sick, twisted, and torn in there. Family members visited, clinging to hope and the belief that their loved ones would be okay in the end. But most frightening, people died here.

Kurt inhaled sharply and slammed the car door. He walked steadily towards the tiny entrance to the juvenile mental ward. Perhaps this is why 'changing the face of mental health in America' had been one of his fathers biggest platforms in his political campaign. He wondered how long his father had been keeping this a secret from him. And more importantly he began to wonder if it was not his father that paid Blaine's hospital bills since Blaine's parents had obviously abandoned him. The thought made him shake with anger. His father should have told him. He got the sneaking suspicion that Finn was lying when he said he had no idea. These thoughts rushed through his head and his eyes burned white hot with rage when another thought crept into his ever inquisitive mind.

Sebastian.

If his dream had been true maybe Sebastian was the one paying the hospital bills. Although Kurt was fairly certain he'd have seen him around more often if that were truly the case. He reached the front door and pushed it open quietly. The clock on the wall behind the front desk read 7:00 exactly. "Hello, Kurt." Mr. Schuester greeted him with a tired smile. Kurt could tell the man was exhausted most of the time. He wondered to himself if the man had a wife and children of his own. Perhaps one of his children had a mental disability or was permanently emotionally compromised in some way. Kurt wondered if this was not one of the reasons Mr. Schue chose this as his career.

"Can I see him?" Kurt asked, his voice shaky and his legs wobbling like jelly. "Here I am!" exclaimed Sam, popping up from behind the counter. This wasn't Sam, though. This was George; the perpetual four year old who thought of nothing but coloring, bug collecting, and making people feel better when they were sad. Kurt instantly smiled. "Isn't it past your bedtime, George?" Kurt teased, wagging his finger at the tall blonde. George made a pouty face and stomped his way down the adjoining hall and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Mr. Schuester sighed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "You may go see him. Only for a few minutes, though." Will warned, seeing the look of pure Glee on Kurt's face.

The tall brunette wasted no time. He quickly jogged down the hall to the door at the end. This time their encounter was not quite so violent. Blaine was either drugged or extremely calm. He was sitting in a corner hunched over what appeared to be a portable keyboard. Kurt's heart warmed at the notion of his love writing music again. "Hello, Blaine." he said softly. His boyfriend took no notice of him. He was jotting notes down in a music book and muttering to himself. Kurt took a few timid steps into the room. He drank in his surroundings quickly, noting every quirk about the room that was just so… Blaine.

There was a small bookshelf housing piano book, sheet music, a few Shel Silverstein books as well as the entire Harry Potter series. Kurt smiled to himself and plucked a poetry book from the shelf, admiring the hastily drawn pictures that accompanied each remarkable poem. "Blaine, I came here to talk. I'm sorry it's been a while." Kurt said. This seemed to catch the shorter boys attention because he visibly stiffened for a moment and stopped his muttering. "I shouldn't…" Blaine began to say, but stopped himself. Kurt wanted desperately to go touch him; to show him some sign of comfort. He resisted the urge, for fear Blaine would have another terrible reaction. He instead replaced the book and continued to explore the small yet handsome room.

In addition to a bookshelf the only other two piece of big furniture were a small chest of drawers for clothes and a Twin sized bed. Kurt frowned. There would be no future cuddling in a bed that small. He made a mental note to see if it would be at all possible to bring Blaine his own Full size bed and swap it out with the Twin. It meant Kurt's bed at home would be smaller, but he didn't mind. Kurt examined the drawers with morbid fascination. It appeared that either Blaine (or perhaps the previous owner) had carved some rather harsh phrases and words into the wood. Fag, Queen, Slut, Whore, Disgusting, Worthless, Piece of Shit! Kurt shuddered and tore his eyes away focusing instead on the scrapbook that was sprawled across the bed.

It was filled with pictures of Kurt. Pictures that Kurt wasn't even aware he'd given to Blaine. Pictures of Kurt as a child with his mother. And lying just to the right of the scrapbook? A pair of rusty and sharp looking scissors. Did the nurses know nothing? How did he consistently seem to smuggle sharp objects into his room without their notice? Did they not search his room at all? Kurt felt a bubble of anger swell in his chest, but swallowed hard attempting to rid himself of the horrible feelings. He surreptitiously slipped the scissors into his pocket and sat down on the bed, making it squeak.

Blaine froze again and Kurt could see his chest heaving up and down. He was clearly about to panic. Kurt stood up, making the bed squeak again. With this Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. He whipped around, staring at the bed, tears pouring down his face. Without even thinking Kurt moved forward, cooing. "Shh, it's okay Blaine. It's just me." he said, reaching his hand out to touch. Blaine threw his notebook on the ground violently and began to practically tear his bed apart. "Shit! Where are they?!" he muttered, wiping tears and snot from his face with his sleeve. Disgusted, Kurt said, "I took them baby. You don't need them." A beat and then, "Oh no!" Blaine was all out sobbing now, throwing pillows on the ground, flipping his mattress. Then he set to work on the drawers. Dumping them out and rifling through them. "Oh no, God please where are they!" Blaine moaned, letting the tears splash onto his pajamas and soak his face entirely.

Kurt froze in his spot, almost unable to comprehend what was happening. "Blaine, I don't understand why you need those." Kurt said. Blaine approached the piano but stopped dead in his tracks. He was merely steps away from Kurt and instinctively the taller brunette reached out to comfort his boyfriend. He winced when he got a proper look at the bandages wrapped tightly around both arms. Kurt reached out to touch Blaine's face and the curly haired boy froze in fear. He stared at Kurt but something told him that Blaine wasn't even there right now. He was looking at Kurt but he did not see him. "Get out." Blaine whispered, eyes wide with fear, practically shaking with terror.

What could have happened? Why did Kurt terrify him so? Kurt didn't hesitate. He left in an instant, not wanting things to get more violent. He closed the door and began to make his way down the hall when there was a crash and an earth shattering screech. Kurt turned on his heels and immediately wrench open the door. It looked as though Blaine had sent the keyboard catapulting to the ground and was now attempting to rip off his bandages. "Blaine stop!" Kurt shouted, tugging at his beloved's sleeve. But Blaine was too strong for him. He freed both arms from Kurt's grip and continued to tear at his bandages. Blaine was shaking, sobbing so hard his breaths came in short spurts. Kurt feared he would pass out from sheer lack of oxygen. He felt utterly helpless.

"Why are you here? Just leave me alone. You know this isn't fair. You know you're hurting me." Blaine cried, his eyes so red they were almost unrecognizable. Kurt felt his stomach jolt at these harsh words. For once the tears didn't well up in Kurt's eyes. He let go of Blaine and left the room wordlessly just as two nurses were going in. He had a lot to think about.

And as far as his friends were concerned, he had a lot of questions for them.


	5. Tables & Chairs

**Review, please.**

Unfortunately enough for the smallest Hummel, his friends not only refused to talk to him about Blaine; they also refused to talk about their last Nationals competition. When he tried to ask Ms. Corcoran or the new kids questions they flat out ignored him. He had taken to staying home from school three days a week in favor of spending his entire day at the hospital. So far the school had either not taken any notice, or they simply did not care. Either way Kurt didn't care about school anymore. He ignored his homework and instead spent his evenings trying to coax Blaine out of the corner of his room and onto the edge of the bed. Usually, though, Blaine stayed pushed into the corner with his hands covering his ears and his eyes darting wildly about the room. Tonight was no different.

Kurt slowly pushed open Blaine's door, carrying a small coffee mug he'd brought from home. Blaine took no notice of him, as usual. "Hello, Blaine. I brought you a coffee. I thought you might like something warm to drink since they generally don't provide hot teas or coffees here. At least, not for you." Kurt set the coffee on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. Blaine was seated on the floor, propped against a wall and staring at his hands with some sort of fascination in his eyes. Kurt had learned better than to approach Blaine too quickly. It set him off. "I was wondering if maybe we could talk? It's been so long since I've had a proper conversation with you." Kurt said, offering a small smile to the impossibly thin looking boy on the ground.

Skinny.

Kurt noticed suddenly how gaunt Blaine's face seemed to be. It appeared as though he'd stopped eating altogether. And his clothes fit him like trash bags clinging to the recently murdered form of small child. Shuddering slightly, Kurt stood from the bed, making it squeak loudly. Blaine's eyes flickered towards the bed and his hands instinctively flew up to cover his ears. Kurt got on his hands and knees and crawled towards Blaine, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. When he was about a foot away from the shrinking teen in front of him, he stopped and sat back on his knees. He noticed the bones in his hands and arms were protruding farther than he surmised they should have. "Blaine," Kurt said gently, trying to sound comforting. "I'm a little concerned about how skinny you've gotten."

There was a little tapping on the door and Quinn walked in, carrying with her a small locket. "He won't listen to you, Kurt." she said calmly. Kurt turned to her, angry tears welling in his eyes. He didn't like her. He wanted her to leave. "Quinn, I really don't want to hear this right now." he said shortly, turning back towards Blaine. She sighed heavily and closed the door quietly behind her. "You're angry." she said, with the same calmness in her voice. "You're mad because your friends won't tell you what's wrong with you. And you're scared because you don't know what's wrong with him." she said, pointing a pale and slender finger at the curly haired boy on the floor. "But you coming here every night is killing him." she said. Kurt turned on her angrily, standing from his position on the floor and getting right in her face. "I'm not killing him!" he shouted, making Blaine jump suddenly and shut his eyes tightly. "They're killing him! They're keeping him here. They aren't fixing it! They let him sit in this room day in and day out and they aren't making him better at all!" he continued to shout angrily until Quinn rolled her eyes dramatically and left the room wordlessly. It wasn't until he slammed the door behind her that he noticed Blaine in the fetal position on the floor, crying into the crook of his elbow.

"Honey, please." Kurt said, kneeling beside the helpless and tortured frame on the ground. "I want you to get better." he placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder but this only made things worse. The boy immediately flinched and Kurt's touch and curled inward on himself, muttering something through his stifled cries. "I love you, Blaine! I can't just leave you in here to die. Don't you get how much you mean to me? Apparently you don't because the only thing you're doing is being selfish! You aren't even trying to get better!" Kurt spat out in a frustrated tone. Blaine's whole body shook and Kurt heard him draw in a deep breath before sitting up and vomiting all over the floor. Disgusted, Kurt stood up and backed away slowly. He intended to go get a nurse but it just so happened that one showed up right as his hand reached for the door.

"Blaine, dear? Did you get sick again?" the petite brunette woman asked him. Blaine nodded, not making eye contact. Kurt had never seen Blaine react in such a way to his touch. He tried to tell himself that Blaine probably had a stomach bug or something, but he couldn't help but feel guilty and terribly upset that his boyfriend vomited just from Kurt touching his shoulder. The nurse pulled Blaine to his feet, offering him a tissue. "You have a therapy session. Why don't you go see the doctor while we clean this up?" she suggested. Nodding, but still avoiding all eye contact, Blaine shakily made his way down the hall. Kurt followed him. He'd never thought of attending a therapy session with him. He always figured those things were private. But with Blaine not opening up to Kurt at all, he needed answers. He needed to know things that Blaine might only be willing to say in therapy.

So there he sat outside the door in the hall waiting for the session to begin. He knew he couldn't go inside. The doctor would never allow that. He'd asked Mr. Schuester if he could accompany Blaine, but Mr. Schuester said it wasn't up to him or the olive skinned boy's therapist. It was up to Blaine himself. Kurt could hear muffled talking inside and chanced opening the door just a tiny crack. This way he could really hear what was going on.

"It's nice to see you again." the older man said, in a voice that Kurt could tell was supposed to be sincere. Blaine didn't respond. "I hear you've been losing a lot of weight lately, Blaine. And I want you to know that this period of self loathing is entirely normal." Again, no response from Blaine. Kurt held his breath, waiting for the doctor to say something that would indicate what happened to his precious boyfriend. "It is not, however, normal for you to blame yourself for everything that has happened. While grieving is perfectly acceptable, there comes a time when one must get out of bed in the morning with the attitude that happiness is just around the corner." Kurt strained hard, hoping this time for a response of some kind. Finally, after about a minute of complete silence, Blaine spoke.

"I don't blame myself." he said quietly. The doctor praised him and Blaine continued, "I know I shouldn't have run away from home but everything in that house just makes me feel nostalgic. And I know you said my guilt will go away, but you can't imagine… Selling yourself, it's different than selling a book or a CD or a t-shirt. You give yourself away every time you go to bed. But it's not like I had anywhere else to go." Blaine said in a measured and calm voice. Kurt winced internally. So his dreams were right. Blaine was a prostitute. "You were with other people because you desired human contact. You desired touch and skin and flesh that a family member can't give. You were coping by replacing that feeling of unhappiness with one of ecstasy." the therapist supplied, making Kurt's eyes well with burning tears. "It's not like I can just forget everything that happened in one month. Or one year." the dark haired boy continued, his voice gaining a grain of frustration. Kurt rested his forehead against the doorframe, listening intently. "You're parents have forgiven you for leaving them. And you know that everyone else has forgiven you. Grief does incredible and terrible things to a person. Sometimes, it takes longer to come to terms with a tragedy than one might think." the old therapist said. There was another moment of silence and then, "I just… sometimes I feel angry. And I know it's a misplaced emotion but I'm not really sure what to do. I don't know where to channel that emotion. I used to sing but I don't really ever feel up to that anymore." Blaine said. "You should try." the therapist offered as a solution. Kurt snorted. He felt like Blaine's problems spanned beyond the repair of music.

And quite possibly as soon as it began, therapy ended. Kurt followed Blaine back to his room, where the shorter teen broke down completely. He flopped onto his bed and stuffed his face into his pillow, crying into it for what seemed like twenty minutes straight. Kurt stood by the door, feeling helpless. He finally plucked up the courage and approached Blaine, taking the smaller boy into his arms. Blaine didn't flinch this time or run or cover his ears. He let Kurt hold him while he continued to soak his pillow right down to the polyfil stuffing. There was a another tap at the door and Kurt (who expected Quinn again) whipped his head around and let out a very loud and rude "What?!"

Rachel Berry poked her head through the door. Her horrid cat sweater fitting snug around her thin form and her hair swept behind her ears. "I just wanted to stop by and say hello. Finn says you've been spending an awful lot of time here and we're all really worried about the two of you." Rachel said, her holds folded neatly in front of her. Blaine sighed softly and snuggled deep into his sopping wet pillow. Kurt began to rub soothing circles on his back and was relieved to find that for once Blaine did not pull away or scream. Kurt frowned at her. "I don't need you checking up on me. I'm fine. And so is Blaine." Kurt said, though he didn't believe the words he said. "May I sing something? I've been working on this for a while and I want to get a chance to share it with someone." Rachel said. Kurt furrowed his brow, this time in confusion. What was she talking about? She always sang at every competition. "Rachel, can't you just-" but she cut him off quickly and placed her portable stereo on the floor, pressing play. It didn't take long for Rachel's powerful and beautiful voice to fill the small room.

_There were nights when the wind was so cold. That my body froze in bed, if I just listened to it right outside the window. _

_There were days when the sun was so cruel, that all the tears turned to dust and I just knew my eyes were drying up forever. _

_I finished crying in the instant that you left and I can't remember where or when or how and I banished every memory you and I had ever made._

_But when you touch me like this and you hold me like that, I just have to admit that it's all coming back to me, _

_It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now. There were moments of gold and there were flashes of light._

_There were nights of endless pleasure it was more than any laws allow. Baby Baby Baby._

_When you touch me like this and when you hold me like that it was gone with the wind but it's all coming back to me._

_I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now…_

It was coming back. A flood of memories filled Kurt's head and it was almost like he was reliving Nationals all over again. He wanted to tear his eyes out of his head and rid himself of all the horrible images. The plane ride home seemed normal at first and then…

Plane Crash.

His funeral.

Blaine.

Screaming, crying, broken Blaine. He watched as his parents looked on. He watched his father and Carole trying to comfort Blaine. He watched his boyfriend walk away, leaving the funeral before it had even begun. Kurt sat bolt upright and realized that Rachel was gone, taking her boom box with her. And while he'd been in his little trance Blaine had awoken from his slumber and stumbled out of his room. There was screaming and it sounded like a struggle was happening in the lobby. Kurt rushed from the room to the front.

Blaine sat on his knees in the lobby, clawing at his face while the nurses tried to pull his hands away. "He's in my room again, I'm telling you!" Blaine sobbed brokenly. "Make him leave, please." he cried, pulling his own hair. Kurt felt sweating coating his brow, his heart was beating too fast and the room began to spin as the awful dreaded words hit his ears.

"He'd gone, Blaine. Dead. Kurt is never coming back."

**Don't forget to review/favorite/alert this story!**


	6. Worn by all of the Dust

Dead.

Kurt stood in the lobby long after the nurses had practically dragged Blaine back to his room. He felt stunned and very cold on the inside. It made so much sense now. It explained why the new Glee kids and teacher never spoke to him and his friends. He understood why his parents never seemed to interact with him. And it also explained why Blaine got so upset when Kurt was around. He still had questions though. Questions only his friends could answer.

They'd all died in the horrible, fiery plane crash; Mr. Schuester included. But why were they still here? And why could Blaine still see and hear him? And why could Ms. Sylvester interact with them? Also, why wasn't Ms. Sylvester working at the school like she used to?

As these thoughts spread through Kurt's mind like a thick fog over the morning horizon, he sank into a chair. The nurses talked and walked around him, ignoring him because they didn't even know of his existence. They probably thought Blaine was pathetic. For some reason this thought made Kurt extremely angry. How dare they judge him! He didn't even know if the nurses judged Blaine; he'd never paid that much attention to them. But the thought of them giggling and gossiping about his love absolutely infuriated him. Lost in his reverie he almost didn't even hear Quinn's soft voice float through the lobby.

"We weren't allowed to tell you. It's just a silly rule. You had to discover the truth on your own." Quinn explained, sitting next to Kurt. The thin, brown haired boy stared straight ahead. His eyes searching the floor for cracks and imperfections. "I'm gone." Kurt whispered, almost inaudibly.

Music was drifting down the hall and into the lobby. Kurt's eyes darted towards the hall door and glanced at Quinn. "That's Blaine's stereo." she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "He listens to music and sometimes he sings. But mostly he just listens to depressing music. I've noticed he likes hip hop, rap and alternative." she went on to explain. Kurt, again, didn't recognize the song floating down the hall. He noticed that it had a piano in it, so immediately he justified Blaine's musical preferences in his mind. It wasn't the rap, it was the piano he enjoyed.

_I know, I know you don't love me baby. They tried to take you away from me. Only over my dead body…_

When the song ended Kurt turned his full attention back to Quinn. His questions needed answering. "Why are some of you in a mental hospital and some of you are at school? Are you all really crazy?" Kurt asked her, his face a perfect picture of seriousness. Quinn bit her lip and rested her chin in her hand, leaning closer to Kurt before speaking. "You see us as you want to see us. Somehow it made sense in your brain for Sam, Brittany and I to be in a mental hospital. What is it? Do you have something against blondes?" she joked, jabbing at Kurt's shoulder. This didn't elicit the giggle she was hoping for. Kurt frowned, his face suddenly taking on a look of hurt and realization. "My mother was blonde." he said softly. "Maybe I was surrounding myself with a comforting image." he supplied, trying to make sense of everything.

Quinn folded her hands in her lap and cleared her throat before continuing. The conversation was growing increasingly more awkward. "Do you think those mental disorders make people crazy?" she asked. Kurt's frown deepened. After a few moments of careful consideration he said, "I don't know what I think. I don't think Blaine is crazy. I think he's just hurt." Quinn remained quiet, waiting for Kurt to continue but he never did. "Well, we aren't really afflicted. We are what your mind wants and needs us to be right now. We're just friends helping out another friend who hasn't quite figured everything out yet." she explained. Kurt nodded shortly and directed his eyes back to the over bleached tile floor.

"We're all still here for you, Kurt. But we've accepted death. You have to accept it too, and then you can leave with us. To the afterlife." Quinn said. Kurt stood abruptly from his chair and turned to face her. "This isn't real." he declared, tears filling his glasz eyes. "This isn't real." he repeated, letting the tears spill from his eyes and down his face. Quinn pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. She was never one for being comforting and understanding. 'Tough love' was her approach to every situation. And this was no exception. "Look, Kurt, I'm trying to be understanding," she began, a sigh escaping her lips. Kurt shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. A hiccup found it's way out of Kurt's mouth and he wiped his tears on the back of his hands. "No, Quinn. This can't be real." he said, turning and walking down the hall towards Blaine's room.

He soon found that the door to Blaine's room was blocked by Sam. "Listen," he began, reaching his hand out towards Kurt. But the countertenor shrugged his friend's hand off his shoulder. "I don't want to listen." he said, feeling knots twisting in his stomach again. A familiar, but still unhappy feeling settled into his stomach. Painful, twisting knots and a jolt of stabbing pain like a knife being plunged into his lower back. Kurt pushed past Sam and ripped open the door.

He was doing it again.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed, blade in hand scraping it lightly across his wrists. Kurt crossed the room pulled Blaine into his arms, ignoring the screams of anguish. If it made Blaine drop the blade, he'd do anything. Instinctively, the dark haired boy covered his ears, attempting to block out anything Kurt might say to him. "Can he see me?" Kurt shouted over the incessant screams of agony. "No! But he can hear you, sometimes even feel your touch and you are killing him!" Sam shouted back, his face looking dark and angrier than Kurt had seen it, ever. Part of Kurt wanted to let go of Blaine, and drown out the horrid screaming. But the selfish part of him wasn't ready to let go of his beloved.

The nurses burst in, collecting the blade from the floor and bandaging Blaine's damaged wrists. Blaine was still hysterical. His screams had turned into awful, body wracking sobs. He collapsed onto his bed and continued to cry into his bed clothes. Kurt felt a surge of anger course through his body when he heard one of the nurses say something to the effect of, "leave him, he's a lost cause." He released Blaine's body and got to his feet, his slender finger pointing accusingly at the nurses as they left the room. "Take it back, bitch! He's _not_ lost! You're a heartless, selfish, disgusting cunt!" Kurt bellowed. Blaine flinched and covered his ears again, this time speaking directly to Kurt.

"Get out. I don't want you here anymore. You being here isn't making me feel better. Please, go away. If it's really you. I need to get better. Please, Kurt. Make me better. Please leave. I can't, Kurt. I can't… I won't do this. Kurt I can't. Stop talking. Stop coming here! If it's you. Oh God. If it isn't I'm just some crazy, psycho, voice hearing moron. Please." Blaine's little outburst came out all at once and in short spurts in between sobs and dry heaving spells. And Kurt couldn't help but feel that it wasn't entirely a complete thought or sentence. At times it sounded as though Blaine wanted Kurt to stay but other times his voice grew cold and infuriated and accusatory.

With great effort, Kurt forced himself to leave the room, quietly closing the door behind him. "Why can he hear me?" Kurt asked, his voice weak and hoarse. "You love each other, and apparently it's a strong enough connection for the two of you to still speak to one another. But you have no idea what you're doing to him, Kurt. When we tell you that you're killing him we aren't lying. You are literally killing him by not allowing him to move on and heal." Sam said, placing a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm leaving, Kurt. I'm taking Quinn and Santana and Brittany with me and we're going to where we belong." Sam said, his voice growing stronger and determined. Kurt shrugged, not even caring to listen to what anyone said to him anymore. "I'm staying." Kurt said, his eyes falling again on the floor. He almost felt ashamed of himself. Deep down he knew how unbelievably selfish he was being. But he was more terrified than he'd admit to anyone.

For once in his life he was very truly alone.

And Kurt stayed for another month and half. He didn't attend school anymore. One by one his friends came by the hospital to beg him to leave with them and each time he denied them. Every day Blaine grew thinner and more sickly looking. Sometimes Kurt would sing to him but most of the time that just made Blaine cry and hurl himself onto his bed in hysterics. The tall brunette had taken to sleeping on the floor in his boyfriends room every night. He soon discovered that Blaine had some really awful night terrors. Unfortunately there was really nothing Kurt could do about it except let Blaine self soothe.

Then one morning Blaine woke up completely calm.

Usually Kurt woke up first and then Blaine would get up and he'd immediately start crying. He'd roll over in bed and cry into his pillow, muttering to himself. Then he'd drag himself to breakfast (where the nurses were lucky to get any food into him at all) and return to his room where he'd spend the majority of the day reading or messing around on his piano. Kurt figured it was an extremely lonely way to spend most of his days. He wondered why his parents never visited. He wondered why Carol and his dad never visited. He would later find out that Blaine's parents expressly forbid Burt and Carol from visiting him in the juvenile mental ward. It's not that they didn't trust the Hummel's. In the Anderson's mind they were protecting Blaine by not subjecting him to the people closest to Kurt. They were attempting to shield him from further agony. But what Kurt never worked out was why the Anderson's never visited their own son. He knew it wasn't from a lack of caring, because (as Blaine admitted in his therapy sessions) they were worried sick when Blaine ran away from home and started whoring himself on the streets. They'd even tried keeping him at home and home schooling until the self harm became a problem they couldn't handle alone. Clearly the hospital couldn't either.

Today was different, though. For a brief while, Kurt felt happy. He felt like Blaine was starting to get better. Because for the first time in the whole four months Kurt had been here, Blaine sang.

He rolled out of bed, combed his hair, ventured into the bathroom briefly and surprisingly enough he opted to take a bath instead of a shower. At first, Kurt wasn't sure if this was reason to be concerned. He'd heard of patients here drowning themselves in the bathtub. But he also knew that a nurse would be in soon to check on him. Kurt perched himself on the toilet seat, occupying himself with a magazine he'd swiped from the lobby. A nurse knocked on the door tentatively and opened it just a crack before entering. "Alright in here?" she asked in a bright and friendly tone. Blaine nodded, making shapes out of the soap bubbles and avoiding eye contact as he so frequently did. "Yes, I'm fine." he said with a sigh. She shut the door, but not before telling him she'd be in his room until he got out. Usually they left him alone. Apparently with the high amount of suicides by bath water, they had the same concerns Kurt did.

Then, out of no where, he opened his mouth and began to sing. The song was pretty, but definitely not happy. Kurt didn't seem to care though. He was just happy to see his boyfriend singing again. Even if the song was depressing.

_Life's too short to even care at all, oh _

_I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control, oh oh _

_These fishes in the sea they're staring at me whoa oh._

_A wet world aches for a beat of a drum Oh If I could find a way to see this straight I'd run away _

_To some fortune that I, I should have found by now I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down. Life's too short to even care at all, oh _

_I'm coming up now coming up now out of the blue, oh _

_These zombies in the park they're looking for my heart whoa oh_

_A dark world aches for a splash of the sun, oh oh If I could find a way to see this straight I'd run away _

_To some fortune that I, I should have found by now And so I run now to the things they said could restore me _

_Restore life the way it should be _

_I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down Life's too short to even care at all, oh _

_I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control, oh oh If I could find a way to see this straight I'd run away _

_To some fortune that I, I should have found by now So I run now to the things they said could restore me _

_Restore life the way it should be I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down One more spoon of cough syrup now (oh whoa)_

Another knock at the door made Kurt jump slightly. He muttered come in, despite the fact that he knew whichever nurse was at the door would not be able to hear him. It wasn't a nurse, though. It was Mr. Schuester. "Oh, hello." Kurt said quietly, standing up and leading the way out of the bathroom, not wanting Mr. Schue to see his naked boyfriend. "I need to talk to you, Kurt." Will said calmly. Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. The gesture almost looked like a boy trying to protect himself against a bully's crushing fist. "Blaine has stopped eating, you know. And he's getting sick to a point where he might… Not make it if he doesn't start eating soon. I trust you understand why he's doing this to himself." Will said. Kurt didn't move, or say anything for that matter. He merely stared at the blank walls, his heart pounding in his ears. He heard the plug being pulled in the bathtub and the water swirling down the drain. "It's time, Kurt. Time for us to go." Will said, an edge of desperation in his voice.

Kurt remained silent. Blaine had toweled off, dressed and returned to his bedroom humming to himself while Will and Kurt stood in a corner, silent as church mice. Finally, after Blaine left for breakfast with the nurse, Kurt spoke.

"I know you are right. And I've decided to go. I was being selfish but if I stay here he's going to die. The last thing I want is to take his life away just because I had the misfortune to lose mine." Kurt said, his voice shaking slightly. Will nodded curtly and said, "You should say goodbye and go home. I know someone who will be there waiting for you. They'll take you where you need to go." With that he turned on his heels and left. It was at this time that Blaine returned from breakfast, his cheeks looking rosier than usual. The nurse complimented him and told him how proud she was of him for finally deciding to eat something. Beaming from ear to ear, the nurse left Blaine to play his piano.

In an instant Blaine was playing a tune that Kurt thought to be original. He soon recognized it as a piece from the Tim Burton film 'The Corpse Bride.' It was not a piece that had lyrics, just the theme for the film, Kurt guessed. He knew Blaine rather liked Tim Burton movies. They were whimsical and quirky, like Blaine. Sighing loudly, and feeling a heaviness settle into his chest, Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed making it squeak. The piano playing stopped and Blaine whipped around, eyes searching the room for the reason his bed was disturbed. Kurt stared at his hands for a long time before speaking.

"I love you, Blaine. I'm happy that you are getting better. And I don't want you to be afraid of me. I want you to know that I'm sorry I've hurt you so badly over these past few months but that I'm going to leave now. I'm going to let you move on and grow and get better. And I hope that someone will find and love you the way I did. You deserve better than this place, baby." Kurt said, sadness dripping in his tone. Blaine's eyes softened immediately and his eyes fell on the bed where Kurt sat. Something in Kurt stirred and for a moment he foolishly thought Blaine might be able to see him. He stood up from the bed and crossed to the piano. Blaine's eyes stayed fixed on the bed clothes, almost as if he was in a trance. "I'll always care for you Blaine, even in death." Kurt whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's temple.

Not wanting to stick around any long, Kurt collected up the few belongings he'd taken with him to the hospital and left. For the last time.

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**Review please! Songs are "Cough Syrup" by Young the Giant &**

**There is also a line from the song "Over My Dead Body" by Drake**


	7. This is a Place

**A/N: I think some of you guys are still a little confused so I'm gonna clear it all up :**)

**At the end of Season 2 of Glee, the New Directions go to Nationals in New York City. Well, the idea of this story is that the plane bringing them home crashed and burned, killing EVERYONE. The entire Season 2 Glee club is dead in this story. Blaine didn't actually join the New Directions until Season 3, he just hung out with them a lot because of Kurt. This story is set in the current Season of Glee (4). So, all of the characters like Marley, Jake, Unique, etc. they are in the New Directions now. Ergo, the Season 2 characters have been dead for two years now. So, I hope that cleared any questions up. If you have any more questions feel free to leave them in a review or message me! Sorry, I didn't intend for this to be confusing.**

**Please remember to review! You'll get updates sooner that way.**

Kurt walked home that day. He didn't have a vehicle and he did not feel like waiting for a bus. It took him a considerably longer amount of time than he might have guessed. Couldn't ghosts fly or something? Was he even a ghost or entity or was he just some sort of walking dead thing? Sighing heavily, Kurt readjusted his messenger bag for the third time and tentatively opened the front door to his former place of residence. Ranger, the kitten, greeted him at the door; purring loudly and rubbing against his legs. Kurt bent down and picked up the little bugger, petting him softly. "I'm glad someone can see me." he remarked sadly, placing the kitten gently back on the floor.

"Finn! I'm home!" Kurt called up the stairs, hoping his brother would come downstairs quickly. No such luck. After ditching his bag and fetching a snack from the kitchen, Kurt climbed the stairs two at a time. He stopped at the top of the stairs when he heard the soft, muffled noise of crying creeping underneath his parents bedroom door. He was hoping it wasn't his father crying. Kurt pushed open the door slightly and slipped inside without a sound. Burt wasn't crying. It was Carol. He stood from the bed where they sat with each other and closed the door. "Carol, honey, please try to relax." His father said, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

They had photo albums spread across the bed and Kurt shuddered to think of them sitting up here alone mourning over their sons. Carol sucked in a huge breath and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her emotional burden. Burt sat down next to her and said, "Its been a while now, honey. I don't think they'd want us to mope about it." Kurt nodded his agreement. Each little noise of heartache that escaped Carol's lips made Kurt want to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide from the world. He couldn't help but feeling like this was somehow his fault. And the words Carol said after this thought confirmed his suspicions. "I feel them here, Burt. When you're away, the house breathes and it feels like they're with me." Burt stayed quiet a moment, as if choosing his words very carefully.

"They are with you, Carol." he said after a few minutes of silence and her sniffles. She shook her head quickly and said, "No, no. Not in a good way. It's not a comforting feeling. It's like they want to tell me something but they can't." she said, her voice choking up suddenly. Burt buried his face in his hands and let out a huge sigh. Kurt almost thought he saw his father's shoulders begin to shake. Probably from crying. But when he lifted his head, Kurt saw only pain and sadness in his eyes and no tears. He was almost grateful for it. At least his father had stopped crying over him. Just as Kurt was turning to leave (he was certain Finn had left already), his father began to speak again. And what he said captured Kurt's attention like a cartoon does a child's.

"I have something to tell you."

His body tensed up and he resolved to sitting on the floor against the closet. His father had something to tell Carol. It felt like a huge brick hit him in the face. His father _never _started a conversation in that manner. It was like he was about to confess to some horrible, ugly sin and part of Kurt didn't want to hear it. Apparently Carol had the same concerns because her tears immediately ceased and her face took on a look of confusion.

"Blaine sent us a letter yesterday." Burt said. Kurt sucked in a breath. Yesterday? Perhaps that's what Blaine was writing in his notebook. And maybe when he disappeared for an hour and Kurt fell asleep he was sending the letter off. He knew Blaine's parents forbid the Hummels from visiting him in the hospital, but he supposed Blaine could still write them. Burt pulled the letter from his pocket and Carol took it with shaky hands. "I haven't read it. I wanted us to read it together and I didn't want to disturb you since you had a girls night last night. I thought it would be best to read it later." Carol let out a tiny breath that seemed to deflate her entire body. Kurt frowned and moved to stand beside them so he could read the letter as well. It read this,

_Dear Hummels,_

_Thanks so much for the stereo & iPod dock. I know both of them must have been expensive. And I really appreciate you taking the time to bring them by the hospital. I wasn't able to come out and see you, and I'm sure you know why. It has taken me longer than I wanted to write a thank you note. My doctors say I'm not doing so well and lately I've stopped eating. I know if you could you would lecture me on how dangerous that is, but I'm simply not hungry anymore. Everything feels so empty nowadays. When my brother Cooper used to visit me he would bring candy and CD's and new sheet music, but since he's moved away I hardly get visitors anymore. Except for one…_

Kurt's heart almost stopped at this. He knew exactly who Blaine was talking about and he wanted to rip the paper out of Carol's hands and hide it away. Ashamed. He felt ashamed of himself for putting his family through so much grief.

_Kurt has been visiting me. I don't know if you have had any experiences with this but he talks to me and tells me that I need to get better. He yells at the nurses when they speak ill of me and he tries to sing to me sometimes. Please don't write back and say that its all in my head. Please. I'm telling you it is Kurt. He's here, I'm just sure of it. No matter how many times I ask him to leave he stays here. If he visits you at all, have you been able to make him leave? It hurts so much, Mr. & Mrs. Hummel. I wish he weren't so selfish. But then I think, maybe I'm being the selfish one. You'll at least be happy to know that I haven't self harmed in a while. I haven't felt the urge. That or I haven't had the energy. Could you maybe write my parents and ask them to visit me? Or maybe you can come see me? It could be our little secret. I love you both dearly,_

_Blaine._

Kurt felt his throat tightening and he vaguely remembered hearing his father mention something about Blaine's parents being the truly selfish ones in this equation. He tore from the room and down the hall towards his bedroom. He couldn't stand it. Seeing everyone around him suffering like this was unbearable. He let the tears fall freely from his eyes and threw himself onto his bed. Oh damn, his bed.

He'd miss his bed. He'd miss his clothes, his desk, his books, his makeup, his skincare products, his bedside lamp shaped like a cloud… His room, really. He would dearly miss his room and his things and suddenly the reality was sinking in. Suddenly he felt silly. He was ultimately mourning over the loss of himself, but what had he lost? Just some worldly possessions. Closing his eyes he slipped into a slumber so peaceful, it almost didn't feel real. Sleeping, it seemed, was something the dead did often.

When he opened his eyes he was in the cabin of a train, rolling quietly past bright green pastures and orchards full of apple trees. He sat bolt upright, gasping to fill his lungs with air. How had he gotten here? Where was this train going? And what on Earth was Sue Sylvester doing in the seat across from him?

"You're not dead." were the first words out of Kurt's mouth. Sue smirked at him, setting down the cross stitch she'd been working on. "No, she's not." Sue said. Kurt frowned, feeling utterly lost and confused. "Who…?" he let his voice trail off and suddenly felt himself growing very pale in the face. "Sweet boy." she said softly, moving to sit next to him. As she moved from her seat to his, her entire physique changed. She seemed to shrink a bit. She was still thin and rather pale but her hair grew longer and curled, remaining golden in color. Her face was less pointed and a bit more round and her nose morphed into a button shape that strongly resembled Kurt's. His eyes widened as it dawned on him that this was Elizabeth. This was his mother.

"I appeared to you this way because it was an image that was more familiar, Kurt." Elizabeth said quietly, the same peaceful smile still on her soft features. Her eyes were the brightest green Kurt had ever laid eyes on. Perhaps as bright as the pastures rolling past the windows. "You're taking me…?" his voice trailed off again. The energy he had while on Earth was totally gone. He felt impossibly tired. It felt like a sickness. Like Rip Van Winkle.

"I'm taking you where you were supposed to be a long time ago, sweet boy. Close your eyes and rest." she commanded, pressing a kiss to his temple. He felt his eyes grow heavy and was suddenly aware of how warm and comfortable the train cabin was. It smelled of a sweet honeysuckle. A scent that was most definitely his mother. "Will I see you again?" he asked, letting his eyes finally close. "No." she said, in a voice that sounded almost sad. Kurt didn't feel anything anymore. He just felt peaceful and quiet. He murmured something Elizabeth couldn't make out at first. Then again, he said it. She leaned in close whispering, "What is it? What did you say angel?" A great sigh and then he repeated,

"Night, momma."

**Review, please! This is where the adventure begins :) be sure to watch for the next chapter. It will be up faster than you think.**


	8. Where I Don't Feel Alone

**I want absolutely NO hate reviews regarding religion. Don't like, don't read. This is not a religious piece. Remember this is about Kurt who does not believe in God. However, there are religious elements. It is my humble opinion that gay people are not condemned to go to hell. That if they live a good life like everyone else they'll rise above. If you disagree with this opinion please keep it to yourself. Thank you. Please review.**

The first time it happened Kurt didn't pay attention. He was mildly aware that Blaine was singing to him, but he thought it was just part of his dreams. How long had he been asleep? Is he still on that train? Or was all of this some horrible dream swirling around in a comatose brain? Kurt could hear him singing 'Teenage Dream' and it felt like a memory. The second time it happened, though, he tentatively opened his eyes. His body ached a little and there was a pounding in his brain when his irises finally met the blinding sun for the first time in a while. This time a different song was echoing through the walls of his head. One he had never heard Blaine sing before. And yet he was certain it was Blaine's voice.

"_So this is where you fell_

_And I am left to sell_

_The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell_

_Right to the top_

_Don't look back_

_Turning the rags and giving the commodities a rain check."_

Kurt turned on his side and smiled into his pillow, willing the aching in his head to go away. It certainly felt nice to hear his love's voice again. Perhaps it had all been a dream. The room he was in was warm with many windows and long flowing white curtains. Maybe this was a hospital. He couldn't tell but he desperately felt the itch to crawl out of bed and straight into a hot shower. The soft clearing of someone's throat alerted him he was not alone. For a split second his heart leapt in his chest as he wondered to himself if it were Blaine who cleared his throat.

It wasn't.

As it happened it was Artie who had cleared his throat. Kurt peeked from below his covers to see his old classmate sitting in a chair in the corner. He frowned slightly. Surely if they were dead Artie would no longer be in a chair. Kurt sat up in bed, running a hand lazily through his hair. "How long-?" he muttered, willing his brain to turn the sound of Blaine's singing down a bit. Pleasant as his boyfriend's voice was, he didn't need to listen to him right now. He needed questions answered. "You've been asleep for two months. We've been taking turns coming over here to check on you. It's okay though. I slept for four months." Artie smiled and stood from his chair, placing the copy of whatever book he was reading on a side table. Astonished, Kurt jumped out of bed and took a few hesitant steps towards the bedroom door.

"You!" Kurt exclaimed, pointing a shaky finger towards him. Artie chuckled quietly and continued to smile. "You can walk!" Kurt said, a sheepish grin forming on his bright pink lips. But the grin faded quickly as a painful realization sunk into his pores. "Oh," he sighed, frustration suddenly filling up his insides and his cheeks burning red. "We really are dead?" he asked, and Artie nodded sadly. There was a pregnant pause and then, "It's not so bad, Kurt."

For a moment, Kurt dropped his eyes to the floor. He didn't want to believe that this was real, but obviously it was if Artie was here in front of him walking on his own two feet. "I have some questions, obviously." Kurt said, returning his gaze to the surprisingly tall teen in front of him. "Ask away!" Artie said, extending his hand as if to show him around the rest of the house. Kurt glanced at the bedroom door and turned, opening the strikingly shiny silver handle and revealing a long hallway leading to what appeared to be a kitchen. Artie cut in front of him and motioned for Kurt to follow. "Well, for starters, can I go back and see Blaine? I mean, where ever I am now…" Kurt let his voice trail off, knowing that wasn't a complete sentence but trusting his friend to understand.

A beat and then, "No, Kurt. We're here now. In the afterlife." Artie explained. Kurt frowned and drank in his surroundings. Artie sat down at the dark mahogany kitchen table and indicated he wanted Kurt to do the same. "This is your home now, Kurt. We all have our own little private sanctuaries here. It's heaven." Artie said, smiling. At this Kurt's frown only deepened. "I don't really believe in those sorts of things, Artie. God, heaven, I'm not sure I think they're real." Artie's smile faltered a moment before he regained composure and said, "Well, regardless of your belief, this is where the people who've lived a good life go." More silence encompassed the pair of teens and Kurt said, "This is all relative though, you know. This is all just someone's opinion. Other people, they may not think I lived such a good life." Now it was Artie's turn to frown.

"Do you believe you lived a good life?" he asked seriously. Kurt had to ponder this a minute. Had he? He'd never really considered what was 'sinful' or not. Of course, one could be what society deemed an athiest and still have moral values. There was another name for that wasn't there? An athiest with values? Kurt didn't dwell on it much longer before blurting out, "Yes, I do. I haven't done anything wrong." Artie's pleasant smile returned to his face and he continued to explain.

"Well then someone must have agreed."

He left it at that and suddenly Kurt hadn't the energy to argue or ask any more questions on the subject. "Can I tell you something?" Kurt asked. Artie nodded, standing from his chair in the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. "I… I can hear Blaine in my head. Singing." said Kurt, resting his chin in his hand. Artie gulped down his water hastily and nodded in understanding. "I think that's normal, actually. You guys had such a strong connection maybe you can hear him singing because that's what he's doing. Do you hear him right now?" Kurt strained to listen hoping he'd hear Blaine's melodic voice. He was met instead with silence.

"Well, just try and listen as much as you can and hopefully you'll hear him again." Artie said, standing and pushing his chair back under the table. "For now I'm gonna go. But I encourage you to explore your new home." Artie bid his friend goodbye and left the house, leaving Kurt feeling a bit empty and alone. After several minutes of simply sitting in the kitchen alone, Kurt padded down the hallway fumbling with several doors until he happened upon the bathroom. A hot shower would set him straight. He was delighted to find all of his usual skincare products and his favorite soaps and shampoos all arranged neatly in various places around the bathroom. Smiling, he plucked a heavily lemon scented bar of soap off a shelf and hopped into the shower. The spray hit his body and he shivered at the unexpected warmth that enveloped him. Taking extra time to make sure he was squeaky clean all over, he left the shower half an hour later feeling totally relaxed.

Blaine was singing again, thankfully. Kurt smiled at his boyfriend's lovely voice playing in his head. At least he wouldn't be totally alone. But midway through the second verse of "Somewhere Only We Know," he stopped singing. Kurt returned to his room, feeling uneasy that Blaine's singing suddenly ceased. He decided to open all the drawers to see if his clothes were still there. Luckily enough his closet and drawers were full of clothes he owned in his previous life and clothes he only dreamed of owning. "Oh sweet Gaga." Kurt said, eyes growing wide and mouth falling agape. He let the door to his new found walk in closet swing open and promptly pushed his way inside.

Hundreds of designer shoes, coats, jackets, sweaters, shirts and hats he'd only dreamed of owning. There were all leather messenger bags and wonderfully braided designer belts to match the shoes. Everything smelled new and straight from the factory. Kurt rushed back into his bedroom and flung open his top dresser drawer. That's where he had kept his accessories at home. He found himself almost giddy with excitement. "My hippo broach!" he nearly shouted, plucking it from the drawer and examining it closely. He smiled so widely he felt his cheeks would burst. His clothes were important to him. Silly and material as they were, they made Kurt feel comfortable and he felt he could express himself through fashion. He was so relieved to find that his clothes were all here that he began to feel somewhat dizzy. He plopped down on the bed and stretched his arms behind his head, feeling his spirits lift slightly.

The urge to check his nightstand drawers overcame him and suddenly he was on his feet again rooting through the small chest. Most of the time he kept sheet music in here. Unfortunately enough he couldn't find any sheet music. He did however come across a familiar looking notebook. Bound in black leather with tiny, delicate silver lettering etched on the front. Kurt ran his fingers almost lovingly across the letters, feeling his stomach drop suddenly. Could this really be it?

It was a diary. A journal. A place for private thoughts. He knew he shouldn't, but he had to know. So many questions unanswered. So many sleepless nights spent dwelling on what the truth might have been. Kurt traced his fingers over the letters again and again, feeling his fingertips begin to itch with anticipation. This was it. Moment of truth. Before he cracked open the book he ran his sore fingers over the silver letters one more time.

Blaine Devon Anderson.

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**Review please!**


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